


An Unconventional Search

by bakercrown



Series: Unconventional Years [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Grindelwald and Rosier are minor characters, Hurt No Comfort, Pregnancy, Prequel, and also douches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 07:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17382731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakercrown/pseuds/bakercrown
Summary: A pregnant Queenie searches for Tina and Jacob to reunite with them and tell them about her baby after joining Grindelwald.Post-COG. Prequel one-shot to my fic Unconventional Times. Reading that first shouldn't be required but you get more out of it if you do.





	An Unconventional Search

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was brought on by a plot-hole, lol. Someone asked me why Queenie doesn't try to contact Jacob or Tina in Unconventional Times and I was like "huh, well I just kinda figured Grindelwald didn't let her or used his silver tongue to talk to her out of it." But the criticism made me dig deeper for an answer that I originally only pondered for five seconds and thus this fic was born!

  _Dear Teenie,_

_I don’t really know how to start this letter. I know I betrayed everything you stand for, and while I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m not sorry I did it. This--It’s the only way to give my family a happy ending,. You see… I’m pregnant, Teenie._

_Now, I know what you’re probably thinking, even not being in the room with you. Probably, “I told you to be careful!” Well, I was--I still don’t understand where I went wrong. I was using a birth control potion, but--Well, I guess it’s too late for those kinda thoughts now._

_But that’s why I can’t come home, Teenie. My baby deserves a world where their parents can get married, where our family doesn’t have to live in the shadows! Grindelwald is the only one offering me some sort of solution,_ _can’t you see that?_

_Please don’t tell Jacob about the child. It’s something I want to tell him in person…. In the meantime, look after him for me, please._

_XOXOXO,_

_Queenie._

She tied the letter to the leg of her brown owl, Aphrodite, and began to scribble another one, this one shorter, to Jacob:

_Sweetheart,_

_I know we parted on terrible terms, but I want to see you again so badly--I guess I don’t know what to say, other than that. You deserve answers, so can you please met me at this address at noon next Wednesday for lunch?_

_I love you so much, baby, and I miss you everyday,_

_OXOXOX,_

_Your Queen._

Below, she scribbled an address in Paris.

She tied the letter to her owl’s other leg and opened the window, allowing the owl to flap off. Aphrodite could find them, she knew it.

In the meantime, she hurried to Grindelwald’s office and knocked. Rosier was leaving, shutting the door behind her with a snap, looking gleeful about something. She glared at Queenie, her mind untouchable thanks to Occlumency and Rosier’s native language being French, but Queenie didn’t really need her Legilimency thanks to the woman’s facial expression: _I don’t like you_. Rosier’s eyes, especially, drifted down to Queenie’s stomach, just starting to expand with pregnancy, a look of disgust on her face.

Queenie straightened her shoulders, bushing aside Rosier’s obvious disdain, and knocked, smoothing her silk lilac maternity dress.

Really, the only person so far here who she even felt slightly compelled to befriend was Credence. Everyone else avoided her like she was a disease. Why? She was pregnant, not dying. She knew a lot of people found the idea of having a baby without being married scandalous, but couldn’t they cut her some slack? The whole reason she was here was to build a world where she and Jacob _could_ marry without having to move halfway around the world.

“Come in,” Grindelwald said.

She entered. Grindelwald’s office was a small room. It had a bookshelf next to the doorway and a wine cabinet on the opposite wall. A draft came through a window nearby despite the fact that it was sealed tightly. Behind Grindelwald’s desk, a fire crackled merrily. The Austrian mountains made New York in the winter seem _warm_. She hugged the white wrap over coat she wore over her purple dress a bit tighter.

Grindelwald smiled and clapped his hands in delight when he saw her. “Queenie! A pleasure! Did you get your letters sent? You’ll have to pardon the question, I lack your extreme talent in reading minds.”

He bobbed his head in a bow to Queenie, blond curls bouncing. He swept them out of her his face to look at her. His blue eyes glittered.

“I did,” Queenie said, deciding not to bring up to her boss her worries that Tina and Jacob might not even reply. She clasped her hands and then unclasped them, unable to relax.

“Sir, that’s actually what I need to talk to you about. I asked Jacob to met me at a cafe in Paris. I need to tell him about,” her hands drifted to her slight bump, “You know, the baby. He needs to know and he’ll make such a good father. I’m sure he’ll come back with me, once he knows the truth.” She paused. “--And you won’t have to worry about Credence’s studies, I’ve given him a lot of homework to do while I’m gone--”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. The main task Grindelwald have given her since arriving, had been to teach Credence magic. She’d agreed, they had started barely a week ago. It was the one reason she worried she might not be allowed to go.

Her sense of suspense was heightened since Grindelwald thought in German around her: she couldn’t read his mind. She had asked him why this was, a week after she’d arrived at Nurmengard.

_“Why won’t you let me read your mind, sir?”_

He had explained that it was a matter of safety--if one of them were caught and Aurors used Veritaserum, too many of their secrets would be lost.

_“It’s not that my followers and I use Occlumency or think in foreign languages to lie to you, Queenie,”_ he had explained. _“It is just a matter of not wanting too many apples in one basket, do you understand?”_

She had nodded. Protecting their cause had to come first.

Now in the present, she paled. _If he didn’t let her go--_

However, she didn’t have to worry. Grindelwald smiled at Queenie.

“Of course!” His eyes twinkled and he reached into a drawer in his desk, offering her a Cauldron Cake. “Go, make haste. You’re right, it is only fair that Jacob know the truth, and you may bring him back with you when you return to Austria. Good day, Queenie.”

With that, he nodded for her to exit. Queenie did so, beaming, a spring in her step.

#

The Parisian cafe, Petit Jardin de Blé, didn’t have many people there. Queenie had picked a cafe that would be less crowded on purpose--thanks to her Legilimency, she hated crowds. This cafe was small and located in the middle of Paris. Seating was outdoors and it served mostly coffee and pastries. She knew Jacob would like it.

Her hands gripped the glass vase she carried so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She had considered her plan to the last detail.

In the vase were corn poppies, native to Poland. Although Jacob had never said so out loud, she knew from his mind that the red flowers had been his grandmother’s favorite. She hoped the thoughtful gift, and the news of the baby would help to smooth things over a bit. Things would be okay, once he understood.

She scanned the room, but didn’t see Jacob. She sat down at the wicker table for two that she had reserved for them, adjusting her baggy coat a bit so that it hid her condition. Really, the last way Jacob needed to find out was by looking at her. She placed the corn poppies in the center of the table.

It would be nice if she could blame the vomit raising in her throat on the baby, but, entering her fourth month of pregnancy, she knew that all there was to blame at this point was nerves--her shaking hands proved that.

A waiter that looked younger than her with a carefree smile came over to her table. He wore a black suit with a yellow flower pinned to his chest.

“Bonne après-midi! Voici votre menu, Madame. Puis-je vous offrir un breuvage??”

_Sigh_. French. Just what she needed. Her mouth opened slightly, and she looked at him, bewildered.

“Uh--I’m sorry! I-I don’t speak French!” Queenie said, shaking her head to emphasize her point. “I speak English!”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“Oh, pardon me, madame, you don’t speak French?” He gave a small bow. “I said good afternoon and asked you what you’d like to drink. I’m Joseph, your waiter.”

“Uh, water please,” Queenie said. Until the baby was born, she was sticking to water and milk, mostly. Avoiding caffeine and alcohol just seemed smart in the meantime. If it made her twitchy or tipsy, how would it affect the baby she carried?

“And for your guest?” He nodded at the empty chair.

“He’ll have coffee,” Queenie said, smiling sweetly. He would probably need something strong, the news he was about it get.

“Excellent! We will send your party member over when he arrives.” Joseph left.

Queenie surveyed the menu while she waited for Jacob, ravenous after the journey from Austria.

Well, honestly, she was always hungry now. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, everything just tasted so much _better_ . Gaining a ton of weight and her stomach stretching out was something she did not like about her condition, but food tasting even better than normal? _Sweet Morrigan_ , it made her want one of Jacob’s cinnamon rolls, her favorite. She couldn’t duplicate them no matter how hard she tried.

And everything on the menu looked amazing. There were pie, cakes, brownies, cinnamon rolls, and even a strudel that made her mouth water.

“Hello again, madame!” Joseph placed the coffee in front of Jacob’s empty seat and the glass of water in front of Queenie.

“May I take your order for you and your guest?” He jerked his head at the seat across from Queenie. His eyes landed on the corn poppies, clearly picking up that this was to be a special outing. The smile pasted onto his face flicked for a second into a frown.

Ah. He felt sorry for her. Well, let him pity her! She hadn’t been stood up. Jacob had never let her down, even when she had done nothing but disappoint _him_.

“I’ll have a piece of apple strudel and my guest will have the pain au chocolat,” Queenie said.

Joseph went to give Queenie’s order to the bakers inside.

Queenie rubbed her aching back, sighing. She hoped Jacob would get here soon, she longed for the soft bed and hot shower in her hotel room. Being pregnant was no fun.

The food came and Jacob did not. Multiple people were starting to stare at her, gazes pitying. Queenie glanced at the silver pocket watch Tina had given her for her 17th birthday.

_I know you’ve got a reason to be angry, baby, but please come,_ Queenie thought silently as she saw it was thirty minutes past when she had asked Jacob to arrive.

She understood that he must be mad at her, but he’d been mad at her after what had happened in London too, and he’d looked for her in Paris--Surely this would be no different, she had told him where to find her.

Jacob would come because he always came, even when she didn’t ask him to. That was part of what made him so wonderful. Her own personal knight.

_But what if he didn’t come?_

Queenie glanced at the corn poppies. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered a sunny June visit to the bakery last year, Jacob lovingly hanging a box of the flowers next to the entrance of his bakery, humming happily as he thought of his grandma, of how thrilled and proud she would be to see him now. A business owner, a wonderful girlfriend, and planting her favorite flowers in the new world.

Jacob _would_ come-- _wouldn’t he?_

She couldn’t have lost Jacob’s love, his trust, could she? Surely the comment about her being crazy had just been said in anger…? Her hands began to tremble in fear, and she gripped her leather purse just for the sake of having something to hold onto.

After another fifteen minutes, Queenie grudgingly ate her piece of apple strudel, since it was getting cold.

Queenie waited, stubbornly, for another hour and fifteen minutes, but there was no moment where Jacob rushed in with his coat askew and explained in a huff as he hugged her tightly that he’d been late.

Joseph kindly came and replaced Jacob’s coffee twice. The last time he came to do this, he discreetly passed Queenie a handkerchief.

Finally, she had to admit it.

Jacob, for whatever reason, wasn’t coming.

Queenie stood up, rubbing her sore back again. She paid for her meal, leaving Joseph a large tip, and left, not letting the hot tears stream down her face until she had left the cafe far behind.

Jacob had never let her down before.

#

Maybe the problem was simply that they weren’t opening her letters. That was her first thought, when she arrived back at the Apparation point at Nurmengard. It wasn’t an unexpected reaction. She just needed a way to communicate with them that they couldn’t throw away. She marched back to her room, wiping away her tears with Joseph’s handkerchief, determination in her stride.

She now had two ideas: Firstly, master the Patronus Charm and see if she could learn how to send Jacob and Tina a message.

Second, book a trip to New York--speak to Jacob and Tina in person--They couldn’t ignore her if she showed up in person, and, well, given that soon she would no longer be able to hide her pregnancy, they would know the truth.

Her boat set to leave in a month, Queenie used the time she would be waiting to try and master the Patronus Charm. Every moment that she was not tutoring Credence in magic was spent in her fancy bedroom, trying in vain to master the spell.

It was another snowy day, the weather obscuring the view of the mountains outside. The lack of light blocked off a view of her closet, enchanted to be bigger on the inside to give her more room to hold her clothes, most of which were self-made since she couldn’t wear anything she had packed when she and Jacob had left New York. Reflecting this effort was a dressmaker’s dummy in front of the closet, a pink dress for later in the pregnancy resting on it half-finished.  

Queenie practiced in front of her desk. She just had to not think of her fluffy bed with the thick covers, which was so tempting as she got bigger and her feet and back plagued her.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_ Queenie said, thinking hard of herself and Tina as girls, staying up far too late at Ilvermorny to celebrate the new year, stuffing their faces with candy.

But she couldn’t focus on the image. Thinking about Tina just made her think of how much Tina probably hated her. She and Jacob hadn’t responded to her letters _still_ , and Aphrodite should _really_ be back by now.

Tina was probably angry at her, so it was easier to picture Tina saying the following:

_“I warned you not to go to the bakery, Queenie! I warned you not to see him! And now look what you’ve done--_ the Tina in her head was tapping Queenie’s stomach, a judgemental glare on her face.

Not so much as a puff of smoke came out of her wand.

So this time, she thought of Jacob, forcing herself to remember when they had visited the Blind Pig--

_“Are all no-majs like you?--”_

_“No--I’m the only one like me.”_

She focused on the look on Jacob’s face as he’d tried to impress her. He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t needed to try, because she was delighted when him just being himself. She remembered how overjoyed she’d been when he’d punched Gnarlak in the face, the sneak.

_“Expecto--”_ But she couldn’t hold onto that memory either. Jacob’s face as he flirted with her quickly vanished and replaced itself with the look on Jacob’s face she saw in her dreams. The stony look on his face as he’d told her--out loud this time--

_“You’re crazy.”_

Jacob, who apparently resented her so much, he had not come to see her at the French cafe.

Why, _why_ couldn’t she keep a happy memory in her mind? She lowered her wand, flinging it onto her rolltop desk.

“Well, that was pointless,” she said, sitting down in her wooden swivel chair in front of the desk to rest her aching feet. All trying to learn this spell did was leave her feeling stressed out and miserable.  

“That’s the fifteenth time I’ve tried and still nowhere. Maybe I’m just not meant to learn that spell, huh?” She glanced down at her stomach. This couldn’t be good for the baby, the stress and depression caused by this spell that she couldn’t cast. She was done trying to learn it.

#

When it was time to leave the next month for New York, Queenie couldn’t shake the excitement swelling in her entire body. They couldn’t ignore her if she went to New York, if she saw them face to face.

At long last, Queenie entered her and Tina’s old apartment, unlocking the door with a lazy flick of her wand and an _“Alohomora.”_

What Queenie saw when she entered the apartment made all the color drain from her face.

The apartment was empty, completely stripped, like Tina and Queenie Goldstein had never lived here, not once.

“No…” Queenie said. Everything was gone. The dressmaker’s dummy where she had made her dresses, gone. The table where she had fixed Tina and the boys apple strudel, gone. The cabinet where they had kept the good china their mother had left them; that Queenie had always told Tina she wanted someday when she got married herself, gone.

Queenie ran into her and Tina’s bedroom, only to find that empty, too. The twin beds they had once let Newt and Jacob stay in had also clearly been removed, although Queenie could see the marks on the floor where the beds had once been.

“Teenie, why?” Queenie whispered, fiddling with the triangular sign of Grindelwald’s that dangled around her neck. Though truthfully, Queenie supposed she knew why--why would Tina want to continue to live in a city filled with memories of a sister who had left her behind?

Queenie’s breaths were uneven and shallow. Teen… Where was her sister now? She had no way of knowing, no way of finding her now. It was common knowledge that she had changed sides, a whole battalion of Aurors had seen her do it--she couldn’t just walk into MACUSA and ask to know where Tina Goldstein was…

“Well,” Queenie said, once again rubbing her stomach. “I guess that just leaves finding Daddy…” Surely Jacob was still in New York--surely she could talk to him. Convince him. But first, she couldn’t go to MACUSA, but maybe there was someone here she could ask… She hurried down to the lobby of the apartment, as quickly as her pregnant body would allow her to move.

“Mrs. Esposito!” Queenie said, seeing the woman, who was counting rent money at the front desk. “Mrs. Esposito!”

Queenie was not sure what she would do with her old landlady--Obliviate her, after this conversation? Probably, sadly, Queenie’s only option.

Mrs. Esposito, an elderly witch with reading glasses on, gasped when she saw Queenie, and she saw the woman’s mind turning to the headlines she had seen of Queenie the papers: **Sister of Acclaimed Auror Joins Dark Wizard Grindelwald.**

The old witch looked confused, and slightly terrified at the sight of Queenie. Her eyes finding Queenie’s triangular necklace, gifted to her by Grindelwald. Though, a look of understanding flickered for a moment as her eyes found Queenie’s round stomach, nestled in between the coral coat she had worn in Paris. Queenie had made no effort to hide her pregnancy on this trip: She was getting too far along for that, so instead she simply wore a loose-fitting black velvet dress that she had made herself.

“I ain’t going to hurt you,” Queenie said, tucking her wand away into her coat pocket as though to prove her point. “You were always nice to me and Teenie. Please, Mrs. Esposito, if you can just tell me where’s she has gone--”

Tears stung again, and she felt the empathy welling up in Mrs. Esposito’s mind. The older woman’s eyes drifted once again to Queenie’s stomach.

“I can see you didn’t listen to my policy about not bringing men home.” Her eyes were narrowed into slits of disapproval, but her face was still kind.

Queenie flushed. It was strange to be talking about the pregnancy with someone who had known her from before. She flashed Mrs. Esposito a mischievous grin and stuck her hands in her coat pockets.

“I never broke the rules once, Mrs E.,” Queenie said. “You see, I never brought him home--I stayed over with him.”

“That would make sense,” Mrs. Esposito turned back to the register, pulling out the amount of Dragots she had and counting them. “The father--that no-maj I saw walking you to the door some nights last year?”

Queenie nodded. To think Mrs. Esposito had known and never said a word to MACUSA. Queenie wondered how many others in her life had known and had quietly looked the other way.

“Well,” Queenie said, who did not want to discuss her love life with Mrs. “Don’t Bring Men Home” Esposito. “Teen, Mrs E., do you know where she is?” Mrs. Esposito finished counting her Dragots and shoved them back into the register.

Mrs. Esposito shook her head. She looked sad, and didn’t even glance up at Queenie.

“She didn’t tell me where she was going when she gave me the last rent check, just told me that she had to leave,” she sighed, and turned to a paper next to the register, pulling out a quill and marking that Sarah Mullins was late for rent again.  “I’m sorry I can’t help you further, Queenie.”

Queenie saw the truth in her mind, and she knew that Mrs. Esposito wasn’t covering for Tina.

The conversation ended and Queenie paused as she dug into her coat pocket for her wand. Part of her said that Obliviating her former landlady was the smarter thing to do, but she doubted that Mrs. Esposito would tell anymore that she’d been here. After all, she had been kind enough never to tell anyone about Jacob. She left her wand in her coat pocket.

“Thanks, Mrs. E.,” Queenie said. She left the old woman, who was clearly surprised to have not been Obliviated, but relieved.

Queenie Apparated near Jacob’s bakery--She appeared in an alley nearby that was always deserted, where she had frequently Apparated before going into the bakery when she and Jacob had been avoiding the wrath of MACUSA.

She rounded the sidewalk, eager to see the pastries shaped like Newt’s creatures, the corn poppies decorating the windows, but she was in for yet another slap in the face--

The bakery, like the Goldstein apartment, was totally empty. There were no signs of any of Jacob’s baked goods, the displays were packed away, the register was gone--all that remained was the vacant building where Jacob had once started to build his dream. In the window was a large sign that read **FOR SALE.**

What did this mean? Had the bakery failed and was he back to the factory again? She shuddered-- _not_ that. It had killed Jacob to work there. Queenie glanced around to make sure no one was around to watch her and then unlocked the door with magic, hurrying inside.

She instantly, now that she was out of the crowd, sensed not one, but two mental presences other than her own in the bakery. Her heart leapt in excitement. She beamed.

“Jacob?” Queenie called out as she took off her coral coat, letting it rest in her looped hands. Her heart thundered along. She could sing with joy. “Teenie? That you?”

Queenie hurried, black heels clicking against the wooden floor across the empty room that already gathered dust without Jacob and all of his baked goods. She hurried into the back room, where Jacob had once been up before dawn making bread and pastries. Perhaps Teen was helping him pack?

However, no--

It, too, was empty. The only sign there had once been a bakery was the oven in the back of the room.

_“Hominus Revelio!”_ Queenie said, waving her wand around the room. But there was no sign, downstairs, at least, of another human presence, which made her even more confused. How could she feel two other people here if the downstairs was empty? She _knew_ she wasn’t alone.

She left her coat on the counter and hurried to the door off to the side that once lead to Jacob’s small apartment upstairs, unlocking it with magic and hurrying up the stairs with amazing speed for someone who was very pregnant and wearing heels.

“Jacob!” She called from the doorway. She could not douse the hopefulness that had erupted inside her when she had sensed two other mental voices here. “TEEN!”  

She kicked off the heels, not an easy feat now that her feet were swelling up, and carefully checked each tiny room. The kitchen where Jacob had made her cocoa in the evening, empty. The bedroom they’d shared when Tina would leave town on missions, empty. Even the photo of Jacob’s grandma had been taken down from a wall in the kitchen.

The missing photo of Jacob’s grandmother confirmed better than any note could: Jacob was gone. If he planned to come back, the only photo he’d had of his grandma would have stayed.

She didn’t understand! She knew there was somewhere else here, and yet she couldn’t understand how Jacob could still _be_ here. He wouldn’t hide from her, no matter how angry. She _knew_ there were two minds here--how could that be? She cast the spell to reveal human presence again and once again, nothing.

Then she felt a firm kick against her stomach and it was then that Queenie realized why she felt two minds in the bakery, even when there appeared to be no one else around.

Queenie sniffed and put a hand on her belly. A salty tear poured down her face, messing up her makeup.

“I… Am I having twins?” It was the only answer she could think of that explained this confusing predicament. She searched more thoroughly with her Legilimency, and sure enough, located her in womb hummed the minds of her babies, although still too undeveloped for her to have any clue _what_ they were thinking. But there was definitely the start of brain activity there. Queenie sniffed again.

“Well, hello, there, my sweethearts.” Queenie wiped her eyes. There was another tiny kick again and Queenie smiled and pressed her fingers against her stomach. There was a pause, and she felt a kick back.

Of course she would realize a truth like that here, in this place that meant so much to her…

If Jacob were here, this would be perfect. She would call out “Sweetheart, we’re havin’ twins!” He would rush over, pull her into a tight hug, and she would kiss his face. It would be perfect.

He  wasn’t here, which was why, instead, another tear slid free.

“I’ve done everything I can to try and find your dad and Auntie Teen,” Queenie whispered to the babies. She sighed. “But I’m out of ideas, kids. They’re gone, and I don’t know where else to look.”

#

Grindelwald was busy catching up on an old progress report of Queenie’s on how Credence was progressing in his magic, when the door burst open. He smirked when he saw that it was Rosier, dressed in thick fur robes for the mountain cold.

Rosier looked delighted, like it was Christmas. In her hands she held up several envelopes and Queenie’s injured owl, grinning wickedly at him.

“I forgot to turn the letters over to you,” Rosier said, slapping Queenie’s letters to Auror Tina Goldstein, and the baker, Jacob Kowalski, on his desk with a sly grin. “But here they are.”

Grindelwald picked them up, an amused expression on his face, as he read, “ _‘I love you so much, baby, and I miss you every day,_ ’” he repeated, shuddering with disgust.

How anyone could lust after one of the Can’t-Spells, let alone claim to love one, was beyond his understanding. They both laughed wickedly, and Aphrodite bit down on Rosier’s hand, hard, leaving a red mark behind. She scowled down at the owl.

“Don’t do that to me, beast,” she said, glaring. “Typical manners from an owl owned by a witch who has been mating with scum, though.”

Aphrodite flapped her wings as if to leave, but winced in pain, clearly remembering the odd shape one of her wings was bent into. She let out a hoot of pain.

Grindelwald ignored the owl and flung the letters onto his desk with disgust.

“You did well, Rosier,” Grindelwald praised. “Once Queenie has accepted that Goldstein and Kowalski are out of her life permanently, she’ll give her complete attention to our cause. And once they are gone, so is her moral conscious, too. We will not have to worry about the seed of doubt the two of them could place in her mind.”

They both laughed maniacally.

“I only made sure the owl didn’t leave Austria,” Rosier said, face still red with laughter, an easy grin on her face. “You are the one who made sure Goldstein got out of her lease on the apartment early, and that Kowalski was able to get out of his bank loan before Queenie got to New York. They’re both in London now, with Scamander--” she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “I take it, sir, that you’ll find a way to lure Scamander, Kowalski, and Goldstein out of the country if Queenie tries to go searching for them in London?”

Grindelwald’s lip curled into a smile.

“Of course, Vinda,” he said. “We’ll let them catch a glimpse of our dear Aurelius in Rio. They’ll all be far out of town when Queenie heads to London to pay a visit to Newt Scamander. We’ll have to jinx his apartment to make it look like he’s moved as well, but it can be done.”

Grindelwald pulled out his wand and summoned two champagne glasses and an old bottle of wine. A glass landed in his hand, another in Rosier’s, and the drink flowed into both their glasses with magic.

They toasted.

“Sir,” Rosier said, a wild grin on her face as she raised her hand in a toast. “When our plans come to fruition and Queenie either leaves, or is held in our prisons, or gets herself killed once she realizes what we are--I want the no-maj as my slave. Kowalski, that is.” She smirked.

He raised his glass to her again, before taking a large sip of wine, swallowing, and licking his lips. Vinda was _ruthless_. He had to admit it was a good idea--this place would need a good chef down the line.

“Now, now, you must keep you Occlumency firmly in place around Queenie,” he gave her a sinister smile, “but that can _definitely_ be arranged.”

He tossed the letters to Goldstein and Kowalski into the fire behind him, it’s light casting their shadows on the wall in a way that made them look sinister. A job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, LaceyFuyu, for catching a bunch of my usual typos that I always miss like having double of the same word or carelessly typing the wrong pronoun, lmao. 
> 
> Thanks to Treagus in the Newtina Nerds server for accurately translating Joseph's French ("Good afternoon! Here is your menu. What may I get you to drink?") and helping me name the cafe. For those curious, the name roughly translates to "Little Wheat Garden" and implies in French a little quiet place of good things. Fitting, I think you'll agree. 😉
> 
> Corn poppies are indeed native to Poland, according to gardenguides.com, and are named for their tendency to bloom in fields of cereal grains, such as wheat or corn, and according to my research, are the national flower of Poland. I was so thrilled when I started researching and found out about that flower. A perfect gift for Queenie to give to Jacob. 🥰
> 
> Lastly, commenters: Most heartbreaking moment? Go!


End file.
